


Trainwrecks

by bedegraine



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-09-07
Updated: 2011-09-07
Packaged: 2017-10-23 12:43:48
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 555
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/250437
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bedegraine/pseuds/bedegraine





	Trainwrecks

It's division against each other, when Arthur crashes on the couch at three AM because Merlin's locked him out of the bedroom. It's division against each other when, two hours later, Merlin unlocks the door and starts yelling again as though there'd been no reprieve at all. It's division, unified division, when Arthur wakes and, still bleary with sleep, fights back by silencing Merlin with a kiss, drowning him out with the combative crush of lips. And then there is biting, kicking, scratching, battling, until eventually all the fight has ebbed from them both.  
And then it is just unity, caressing, tugging, tenderly pressing. Holding small smiles, private smiles, knowing smiles. Knowing things that are theirs and theirs alone.  
Theirs is the day, in bed. The sunlight pouring over the curtain-less sill, sheets aglow and bright where they're tangled in their feet. Hushed conversations in drowsy decibels, offset by the sounds of the city far below, in a separate world entirely.  
Theirs is the night, stumbling through the streets, minds far gone and sense even further. Clutching and tugging each other along with smiles bright enough to match the neon signs shining down on them. Features lit in the blues; yellows; reds; greens, eyes alight with the energy. Recklessly carefree in their unabashed happiness. Recklessly carefree in their devoted love.  
It is devoted unity, Merlin by Arthur's side. It is unconcerned faithfulness, unexamined and natural. For Merlin to be there, always. For Arthur's eyes to find his automatically, Arthur's hand to search his without premeditation, Arthur's grin to mirror his easily. It is unity, their understanding, plain unity. Against the world, themselves. Unspoken and radiating from their cores.  
Unemployed and feckless, twenty-something, barely adults. Digging through the couch to find change for take-away. Desperate in love. Invincible. Trainwrecks.  
Vanishing from the world for days on end into their apartment, to kiss and sleep and make love like they're on an indefinite honeymoon, surviving on daddy's money and losing themselves, everything and their phones, among the whirlwind of clothes, cushions, dishes and things. Falling asleep on the balcony or living room floor in the middle of a conversation, picking it up when they wake like they'd never slept at all.  
And never running out of things to say. Talking about- anything, everything. Life and death and taxes, friends and less-than-friends, television and movies and books, animals and children, legends and myths, love. Venturing up to the roof, laying on their backs on the cold expanse and naming the stars. Naming their children after their stars. Kissing and touching and laughing.  
And, less tender when they divide, bored of their agreeable compatibility, to kick and scratch and bite once more, like a sort of private joke or contest. Who can keep the fire burning longest before melting in it, letting the touch slip back into its natural lulling want.  
It's them, sleeping all day and staying up all night. It's them, dragging their friends across the city on the quest for the perfect time. It's them, spending hours arguing over who gets to use the Star Wars mug. It's them, huddled together in silence over the rusty rail of the balcony to watch the sun set behind the buildings. It's them, fingers twined as they sleep. It's them, sporadic and wild, dependant and comprehending. It's them, love.


End file.
